Dream World
by Delightfully Weird
Summary: Morgan and Hunter are together once again and soon realize someone close had played a part in the ferry accident. Now it's up to Morgan, Hunter, and Moira to right the wrongs that had been done 17 years before.
1. Chapter 1

**.Moira.**

"When do you think you'll tell them?" Moira asked her mother, who stared into her mug of tea like it held all the answers to every universal problem.

Morgan looked up and set the mug down on the counter next to her open Book of Shadows. She was currently brewing a concoction to aid in relieving anxiety without the herbal aftertaste. She sprinkled in a bit more sugar and squeeze of lemon and stirred.

"Tell who what exactly?" Morgan replied, putting her medium-length hair into a high ponytail. She'd been growing out the thick brown strands for the past year, and it was almost to the middle of her back.

Moira took a bite of toast, nodding towards the stairs. "You and Hunter." Morgan took a sip, grimaced, and poured it down the drain. She grabbed her pen and crossed off the last few ingredients. "Mum," Moira pressed.

Sighing, Morgan said, "Soon. We will tell everyone soon."

"Can I tell Ian? Maybe Tess and Vita?"

Morgan thought for a minute, then nodded. "Sure. Just try not to say anything in front of their parents or Katrina, okay?"

Moira's eyes narrowed. "Why? I thought you and Gran were fine."

Morgan groaned softly, leaning back against the sink. "We're civil." She explained gently. "We're not at war, we're not against each other in any way."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Honey, I can't fully forgive her. You understand that, right?" Moira nodded once. "I mean, you grew up not knowing the other half of your family, your cousins, everyone. You've only known Belwicket."

Moira looked at her mother thoughtfully, debating whether to argue that she was happy in Cobh, with Belwicket, but decided to let it go. It was true, after all. Hunter was her father, and nothing could change that fact. She wouldn't exist without him. And with him came family that she could have grown up knowing, not just adopted family on, technically, both sides.

"Until I think of a good way to tell the rest of the coven, I'd rather most people not know."

"Sure," Moira agreed.

Hunter walked down the stairs, his tread far quieter than it had been when he had first come there a year ago. He greeted Moira with a smile and Morgan with a kiss, which she returned, beaming slightly. They had been subtle in the last week that they'd been engaged, but Moira knew—uncomfortably well—that they were sleeping in the same bed and they made no strong efforts to hide their affection towards each other.

Moira thought back to times like this, with a different father, a different husband for her mother. Colm and Morgan had never been playful or flirty with each other. Gentle pecks and hugs when he would go off to work. They had never locked the door for privacy when Moira was little, and were on opposite sides of the bed, not touching, when Moira would rush in from a bad dream.

She had always assumed her mother wasn't an affectionate person. She'd been loving enough, allowed hugs and kisses freely from Moira, but always had a slight stiffness when Colm tried to be that for her. She had assumed that her parents were soul mates, that Colm was the opposite of Morgan and that they balanced each other out. He never fought with her, never challenged her, had never tried to undermine her parenting…

Would it have been that way growing up with Hunter? She looked up at her mother and biological father and realized with a pang that she looked radiant. She was happy, she looked younger and more vibrant than she had ever seen her before. There was no question that Hunter made her mum feel alive. He was her _muìrn beatha dàn_ —she simply couldn't be whole without him.

Moira knew that with him, she would've been incredibly loved. She knew her mum would've been very affectionate with her, like she tried to be now. She knew she probably would've had siblings and that she would've grown up with a bunch of cousins. She would've had all the attention she could've ever asked for. She would've had her real dad to show guide her spellcrafting, as Hunter was brilliant with it. She would've had them both around, all the time, and not have to rely on her Gran for help with her studies.

But it hurt worse to imagine it than the reality they had all suffered.

With a sigh, Moira got up from her place at the kitchen table, brought her plate to the sink, and left for Katrina's.

* * *

Moira and Ian were lying on a couch in Katrina's house, molding into each other. She was out for the afternoon, and Moira relished having this kind of alone time with Ian.

"They were discussing Beltane—I think that's when Mum would love to do it."

"How do you feel about it? About Hunter?"

Moira wriggled her arm free from underneath him as it was becoming numb. "I think after everything, they deserve it. It's still weird from time to time, but it's kind of normal now. If that makes sense." She added with a small laugh.

"A little," he kissed her on the tip of her nose, and she smiled.

"It's weird how everything has changed. Hunter's amazing, for Mum and also for me, I suppose. I understand now why she loves him so much."

Ian cleared his throat and wrapped his arm further around Moira's back. "And your dad? Are you feeling more okay about it?"

Moira shrugged. "I love Colm for raising me, but I do wish I could've had Hunter, too."

"I get it," Ian said. "I'm sorry that didn't happen for you."

"Me too," Moira said sadly, realizing just how much it was actually true.

Ian kissed her softly on the lips, both of them closing their eyes at the contact. They felt Katrina walk up the front steps and reluctantly separated. She was home much sooner than they anticipated.

"Please don't tell her," Moira whispered to Ian before Gran came around into the living room.

"Tell me what?" Gran asked, smiling at them.

Moira mentally kicked herself. She knew Gran's hearing was good. "Nothing,"

Gran looked between the two and laughed. "Help me unload the bags?"

Moira and Ian nodded simultaneously and got up, following her to the kitchen. They emptied the grocery bags in a comfortable silence while Katrina got out a large pot and cutting board. She turned the flame under the pot and went to work chopping the vegetables for what Moira assumed was stew.

"How's your mum?"

Moira froze, glancing at Ian. "She's fine."

"And Hunter?"

"They're both good, Gran." Moira said tactfully.

Katrina slid the chopped vegetables into a bowl and grabbed a huge chunk of meat to cube up. "We only see them at circles anymore," she said, working her sharp knife into the tender red meat. "I'd like to have them around more often."

Moira swallowed. "Maybe talk to Mum about it?"

Ian stepped beside Moira and added, "Yeah, she's been in a good mood lately,"

Moira's eyes widened, and Ian realized what he had done.

"Why is that?"

"Um,"

Katrina's blue eyes narrowed a fraction. "Moira?"

"Mum and Hunter are engaged," Moira said softly. "But please don't say anything, she wanted to wait until the right time to tell everyone."

Katrina's shock-whitened face regained a fraction of its usual color back and she swallowed. "How nice," she said, forcing a smile. Moira felt the tension rise as Gran went back to the meat.


	2. Chapter 2

**.Morgan.**

Walking down the road to her former mother-in-law's house was not particularly the way she wanted to spend the morning, but it had to be done. Mabon was this week, and she needed to ensure she would be the one to lead the circle.

After everything had blown up last year, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Katrina Byrne. A few months after the Dark Wave had been dismantled, she had gone for a long walk with her. It had been painful, not enlightening like she had hoped. She couldn't understand why she had done what she did, knowing that just carrying Hunter's child could snap her out of her depression. She hated the husband she thought she had loved. He and his family had lied to her to keep her there, and they'd been okay with that. They had brought up her daughter when she wasn't theirs.

And while she was grateful Moira had had a strong family close by, she wished nothing more than to redo it all, with Moira as a Niall.

The talk had gone nowhere, neither of the women willing to accept the other's point of view. So they had at least called a truce. Morgan would come around for the necessary meetings for upcoming circles or preparations for sabbats. Katrina wouldn't ask questions about her or Hunter's rehabilitation. She wanted to keep her away from him at all costs. The same could not be said for her daughter, who had believed this woman to be her grandmother all her life.

Morgan thought back to when she was a little girl, how the first time Morgan really bonded with her was when she was a little over a year old. She was just holding her, Colm was out at work and the animals were snoozing away, Dagda resting on her feet. It was quiet, and she had this beautiful little girl sleeping on her chest and something finally clicked for her. She felt as though this is what she was here for, to be Colm's wife, the mother of Colm's child.

But the Goddess had known better. The little baby with the reddish blonde hair that clearly neither Morgan nor Colm had had. The clear green eyes that later turned more hazel. She hated herself for not seeing Hunter so clearly in her from the beginning, but knew that it would've hurt more if she thought that, if she called Colm out on it.

For what it was, she was happy now. She had her _muìrn beatha dàn_ back. Her daughter was safe and would be initiated soon. But this was absolutely not the way she wanted her life to be. She wanted a few kids. She wanted a nice house, and to be involved more. To really appreciate every gift she had. She wished she had woken up with Hunter all of those years, wished they would have moments of peace and quiet to just lie with each other and be calm or to make love with so much intensity that they would lose their minds.

She blushed, remembering the last few weeks that she and Hunter had been sharing a bed. They had made it no secret after Hunter had proposed, but she hoped they were being subtle about it.

Colm had never been the lover she was used to, the lover she craved for. She was fire, and expected nothing less in return. What she got was soft and gentle. Nothing that made her toes curl or left her a panting mess.

But he'd been sweet, whispering lovely things in her ear while he was on top of her. Nothing had changed about the way they had made love, and it wasn't often enough to really complain about it. She felt like she had gotten the madness out of her system with Hunter—quickly in an airport bathroom, in an empty train compartment, in a shower in some hotel in Europe. She had thought that those lust-fueled days were over.

Until a few weeks ago. She smiled to herself.

She felt the usual shift in mood as she arrived at Katrina's door. Katrina had sensed her arrival and already had the door opened for her. Wordlessly, she followed Katrina to the kitchen and helped herself to some tea while Katrina sat slowly, her arthritis making it difficult.

Morgan decided to be the bigger person and poured a mug for Katrina too, and then went to the table with them. Morgan cooled the temperature on her tea and took a sip.

"How are you?" Katrina asked, reaching for her mug.

Morgan held her hand up to stop her. "Can we skip the niceties, please?" She said coolly. "We're here to discuss Mabon."

"Of course," Katrina obliged.

"Great." Morgan said swiftly. "I'm leading it."

Katrina chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. "Morgan, I would never keep you from leading. You know that."

"But?" Morgan raised her eyebrows and took another sip.

"Are you ready for it?" Katrina asked, trying to sound gentle and concerned but Morgan wasn't having it. She set down her mug, crossed her arms, and waited for Katrina to continue. "You've been so... preoccupied lately—"

Morgan laughed, cutting her off. "That's what we're calling it?"

Katrina sighed. "Morgan, I love you like a daughter. I helped you and Colm raise Moira. She's my granddaughter. Can you really stay mad at me forever?"

"I'm not your daughter, Katrina, and if I had my way, you wouldn't have a role in Moira's life."

"If you had it your way, you'd have left us for your boyfriend and been miserable."

Morgan stared at her, astonished. "That isn't true."

"Though I suppose I should say fiancé." Katrina said, sipping her own tea. Morgan felt her senses go on high alert. "I dragged it out of her," she added.

"I'm not surprised."

"When will you do it, then? Spring, Summer? Will you have more kids?"

Morgan shifted in her chair, arms still crossed, sitting up straight. "That's really none of your business."

"It concerns you, Moira, our coven... So I would argue that it is my business."

Morgan swallowed hard, anger coursing through her. She didn't want yet another fight - not when things at home were so perfect right now. Not when she was so happy. And yet... "I'm beginning to understand why Maeve didn't want to be stuck in this coven forever."

Katrina laughed without humor, straightening as much as she could. "You make it sound like you were held captive."

"Wasn't I though?" Morgan challenged. "If you had let my parents take me home, I would have found out about Moira and known that Hunter was her father."

"Or you would've killed yourself. Or been committed. You were lucky Colm loved you and your child. He gave you everything, Morgan. He accepted that baby as his own, even though it killed him to know she wasn't his. He took responsibility for your mistakes because he loved you! We all loved you, Morgan, and we needed you. I'm proud he took care of you in that state, and I'm happy I was there for Moira when you could hardly get out of bed. Don't be ungrateful for our kindness, Morgan."

Morgan, shaking with anger, stood and walked out toward the door, running into Moira and Ian. She felt Katrina follow her and was happy that she got a glimpse of the tears streaming down Moira's face before her daughter turned away and allowed Morgan to lead her out.

Down the road, neither of them speaking, Morgan wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. Moira didn't shrug her off like she used to do, and Morgan took a small victory in that.


	3. Chapter 3

**.Moira.**

Moira stared down at the roughed up wooden table, trying to rationalize everything that had happened earlier that morning. Katrina, her Gran, had called her a mistake, and even worse, that she was just collateral damage in Colm getting what he wanted: Morgan.

Her Dad tolerated her at the beginning, for Morgan. She tried to make herself believe that Colm really had loved her like his own, but too many contradictory thoughts were crashing through her brain. _He took responsibility for your mistakes_.

Moira sat back in her chair, watching her friends and Ian argue about some show. She was too drained mentally to join in the conversation.

Tess was the first to notice, and the noise stopped at once. "Moira?"

Since the dark wave, Tess had been more sympathetic to her situation than Vita. Moira couldn't count the number of times she had talked about her home life to her, just to vent, to get an opinion from another. She was grateful for her friend. Vita helped, too, but she felt uncomfortable discussing Hunter. Moira suspected it was more an influence from Vita's mum, who'd grown up with Colm and whose family had known Maeve before the majority of them died from the initial dark wave in Ballynigel. She wasn't short with her, but she was ready to change the subject at a moment's notice.

"Just thinking." Moira replied lamely, and she felt three pairs of eyes on her. She met eyes with Ian, as if asking permission to tell them about the blowup at Katrina's. "Mum and Hunter are getting married."

"Oh," Tess and Vita said in unison. One voice sounded much happier than another.

"I made the mistake of telling Gran, and she blew up at Mum this morning, saying that she was ungrateful, that I was a mistake that Colm had to deal with." Moira's throat tightened as she felt tears rush up again.

She hated crying in public. She knew she was a crybaby, but she still hated it.

Ian rubbed her shoulder. "She has been acting weird since yesterday, after you told her. It's almost like she had a plan and it backfired." He said with a laugh, and Moira froze.

It _did_ seem that way.

"I have to go." She said suddenly, grabbing her things.

"Moira?" Vita called after her.

"I'll talk to you all later," she called back, already rushing down the stairs in Margath's Faire. She frantically sent a witch message to her mum to meet her at home as she ran towards the bus stop.

On the way back to her house, which involved running the last few blocks after her bus let her off, everything about Katrina's odd behavior in the last year came rushing back with a new clarity. _She knew something_.

 **.Morgan.**

Morgan had been reluctant to let Moira go off with her friends, but figured it would probably do her some good to get out, to not overthink the mess with Katrina.

Ever since Morgan and Katrina spoke that morning, she started going through everything in both hers and Colm's Books of Shadows to find something, _anything_ that could explain what she had meant about them _needing_ her, about him taking care of her _mistakes_.

That was not the Colm she'd known. He had adored Moira, had taught her how to walk, to ride her bike, had tucked her in and read to her, had loved her like any father would love a child.

It hurt Morgan to read her staggered entries after the ferry accident, none of them mentioning Hunter ever again until just recently. She looked back to before Wales, where she was agonizing over breaking up with Hunter. Entries before where she was grateful to hear his voice on the phone after weeks of not talking. She felt her heart sink when she went back to her senior year of high school.

She'd gone back to Widow's Vale alone, even after spending a glorious two weeks with Hunter in England after she was done in Scotland. He had promised her he'd be back in a few days. Those days had turned to weeks, and by October he _had_ been back—but left again just after his twentieth birthday in early December.

The entries were sad, mostly because of the naïve hope that they would work out the distance. Morgan had already been tracked down by Katrina and members of Belwicket. She'd already agreed to go to Ireland after high school and help them rebuild her mother's coven. And she had felt proud to do it, was proud of herself for getting initiated when she was nineteen. Proud that she was becoming the witch she had aspired to be for so long.

Every time she'd been able to see Hunter was bittersweet. She knew he'd be gone again. She knew that they wouldn't work anymore with how things had been going. She shut her books and focused on Colm's.

Around the time of the ferry accident, there were entries about Morgan—how much Colm was in love with her, how beautiful he thought she was. Earlier entries about loving the way she looked in a white summer dress, her long dark hair flowing down her back.

She felt uneasy reading those ones. She had still been with Hunter, and Colm had been almost obsessed with her. One page caught her eye, and she read it over and over until it had sunk in.

 _If it were not for the man she keeps going after, she would be with me. Goddess, why does she do this to herself? If he really loved her, he would be here to protect her. That's all I want to do, but she treats me like her friend. I need to find a way to make her realize our love for each other. I cannot stop until she does._

 _-CB_

Morgan sat back, horrified thoughts crashing through her mind. _Had Colm been involved?_

She shook her head. It was impossible—Colm hadn't even known who he was! None of the coven had!

Then it hit her. Katrina had known who Hunter was, all along. She had met Hunter just for a brief moment when he'd come to pick her up from school in Scotland. She herself had just met the Byrnes the day before, and had discussed Belwicket and reforming the coven, with Morgan involved.

She felt sick.

Going back to Colm's BOS, she read, _Morgan left today. Wales this time, I think. I overheard her and Mum discussing it briefly yesterday, and Morgan had seemed oddly tense. Perhaps she's finally accepted that she can't be with him, and that she wants to start over here. I've confessed to being in love with her. Morgan had had this odd expression, as though she hadn't understood what I was saying. Her eyes were wide with shock, mouth open. Then she had laughed it off, and, Goddess, I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. But I know she just needs time. More time to get to know me, to forget about this boyfriend she's yet to name. Mum knows how I feel, and she agrees we would be a perfect match. She's asked me not to worry too much, that things have a way of working out. So I'll wait. For now._

 _-CB_

She held the book in her hands, shaking. She felt like she could set the damn thing on fire. Colm had been her rock, her _everything_ for so long! He and his sick mother had done this to her, to Hunter!

She threw the book against the wall, feeling her pulse race as the anger controlled her. Leaving her workroom and slamming the door behind her, she stormed out to the kitchen, trying to find something productive to do.

Moira's voice came through her thoughts, and she went to the door and waited for her daughter to arrive. Mabon was tomorrow. She could confront Katrina then.


	4. Chapter 4

**.Morgan.**

She could feel Hunter watching her as she slowly dressed in her mother's robe. They were getting ready for the circle at Katrina's, and she was stalling. Hunter's magick had been coming back steadily, and now it was as if he was trying to read her aura. It made her nerves stand on end.

"You can stop!" Morgan called back to him in a sing-song voice. She came out of her closet, dressed in her green silky robe and nothing else. She went over to the bed where Hunter had been observing her and sat next to him, resting her leg against his.

Hunter took her hand and she felt instantly calmer, her pulse stopping its fluid and painful race through her veins, and she could breathe normally again. "Are you sure we should go?" he asked in a careful tone.

She leaned against his shoulder. "No. But we have to." She closed her eyes and squeezed his fingers between hers. She felt Hunter kiss her forehead and smiled.

"Moira seems to be taking it well, all things considered." Morgan lifted her head off of his shoulder and turned to face him.

"She's hurting. She's getting good at masking her emotions," Morgan said, then gave Hunter a slight smirk. " _That_ she gets from you."

He snorted. "Of all the things to pass down," he said wryly.

Morgan gazed at him seriously. "Hunter, there's a lot of you there." She rested her hand on his cheek. "I just wish I could've figured it out a long time ago, do it all differently."

Hunter shook his head. "At least she had a father, Morgan. I'm grateful for that."

"I'm not." She said, her voice catching. "He lied to us, manipulated us. I would've rather been a single mom and have her know that you're her dad and how amazing you are." She felt the tears coming again, and hated the fact that all her life she'd been a crybaby. It made her feel young and immature, not like the destined High Priestess of an ancient coven. But like a high schooler. "That was taken away, and if Katrina had anything to do with it—"

"You'll what?" Hunter released her hand and moved to kneel in front of her. He rested his hands on her hips.

"I don't know." She muttered, sniffling. Hunter leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. "I just wish you could've been there." More tears leaked out, and Hunter wiped them away, then kissed her, softly at first, and then with more fire as Morgan responded, wrapping her hand around his neck.

Morgan pulled him back onto the bed with her, him on top, resting most of his weight on his elbows. Morgan wrapped her leg around his hips as his hand grazed the skin of her hip and waist beneath her bunched up robe.

They heard Moira coming up the stairs and disengaged, both trying not to grin at the irony. All the times Hunter's dad, or Morgan's sister, or even Morgan's mother once or twice almost catching them. Now it was their teenage daughter.

"We have to go," Hunter murmured gently, kissing her neck.

Morgan nodded, though she didn't want to.

* * *

The three walked down the road to Katrina's, Moira choosing to walk between her parents, which surprised Morgan. She could feel Moira stiffen as the house came into view, and rubbed her daughter's back soothingly.

When Moira had gotten home earlier in the afternoon, she had told Morgan and Hunter about her suspicions. She'd been horrified when Morgan pointed out the entries in Colm's BOS, ones that Moira had dismissed a long time ago as just being in love with her mother and wanting to take care of her.

This was all too much to be coincidence, the three of them had decided.

As mad as she was at Colm for having manipulated them, she was livid from what it was doing to Moira now. Just as she was starting to see her life piece back together, another wrecking ball came and swept through. Morgan felt guilty for that, but had to remind herself that this was an injustice to all of them, not just Moira, and that if any of them had been involved, they needed to be punished.

Katrina was at the door to greet them, and Morgan narrowed her eyes, the smell of gingersnaps hitting her. Bribery. Morgan entered the house first, and noticed Katrina's surprise at Moira allowing Hunter to comfort her.

"Katrina," Morgan said, "Can I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Katrina looked down towards the circle room, at the rest of the coven in there, talking, laughing. "If this is about you leading tonight—"

"No, it's not. It'll only take a minute."

Katrina nodded, stiffly, and led Morgan into a room off the kitchen. Morgan left the door opened, not wanting to be trapped in a confined space with her.

"I just need to know why you seem to have a problem with Hunter and I being engaged."

The older woman laughed. "I thought you were going to ask me about something serious,"

"This _is_ serious," Morgan pressed, keeping her tone neutral. "Why are you so against it?"

"I never said I was," Katrina replied. "I'm merely concerned about how this will affect Moira."

Morgan scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. " _My_ _daughter_ is just fine with us. You, however, are the one dropping snide remarks and I would like to know what the hell your problem is."

Katrina examined Morgan without speaking, and moved to walk past her. Morgan followed.

"I asked you a question," Morgan snapped, her voice escalating.

Katrina had just opened the door all the way to walk out and turned back to Morgan. "Moira has known one father, Morgan, as it should have been from the beginning! You were never supposed to know any different!"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you wrecked everything! You encouraged him to go on that trip! Every plan we had was destroyed because of you!"

Morgan gasped softly, and Katrina's eyes widened in shock as she realized what she had said.

"You knew about Iona, didn't you?" Morgan demanded.

Katrina, having mostly collected herself, straightened up as they both felt the entire coven watching their argument with concern. She turned to walk out again and Morgan flicked out her hand, trapping Katrina in a binding spell.

"Answer me!"

Katrina stared at her, panicked, and she hated that Moira had to see her do this again, as well as the rest of the coven, who stood by, gasping, begging Morgan to stop.

"You knew about Iona MacEwan." A statement rather than a question.

Katrina stared at her pleadingly, and Morgan tightened her hold just barely. The older woman released a tear and said, "Yes," her voice strangled.

"Were you involved?"

"Yes," she breathed, crying now, and Morgan fought to keep the dam inside her locked up. "She promised if I gave her information on where you would be with Hunter that she would make it so you would stay here, with Belwicket."

Morgan swallowed hard, beginning to lose her hold on Katrina as the emotions flooded her system. "How did you even know?"

Katrina wouldn't answer. Morgan clenched her fingers, and Katrina cried out with a raspy gasp. Morgan released her ever so slightly and Katrina leaned against the wall, breathing erratically.

"How?" she demanded again.

"I read your Book of Shadows," she choked out. "Had been the whole time. I knew that you always wrote about where you'd go to meet him, how you longed for him. It hurt me to see you like that. I thought it was for the best."

Morgan tightened her hand once again, rage coursing through her. "That's it?" she spat.

Katrina stared at her, dumbfounded.

"That's how you ruined our lives? What else?"

"We placed watch sigils on your things the morning you left—very faint ones so you wouldn't detect them if you weren't trying to."

"And who's _we_?"

Katrina, defeated, slid down the wall until she was on the ground. "Me, Iona," Morgan waited, flexing her fingertips just barely, reminding Katrina what could happen if she didn't cooperate. "And Lilith Delaney."


	5. Chapter 5

**.Moira.**

The air in the room felt heavy, and Moira swayed slightly, trying to get a grasp on what was real and what was surely a cruel trick made up by her own anxiety ridden mind. Behind her, Ian stood warily, and she noticed the rest of the coven members staring at him in accusation.

 _So it wasn't made up after all_.

Moira felt faint, but knew she had to hear the rest, even if it broke her heart to do so. She stared at her mother, who was so strong, so able to put her emotions to the side and focus. Moira was sure her mum felt like a tornado was ripping through her, but she looked hard as stone on the outside.

Morgan still kept Katrina in the binding spell, but was silent as she processed this. She noticed Morgan's glance to Ian, and felt her stomach tighten at the implication. It's not like Ian would've had anything to do with it.

Being on the ground, muscles and movements bound to Morgan's will, Katrina still held the aura of triumph. She felt like she had gotten her way. A new anger started in Moira. This was not the woman who had helped raise her, who she had called Gran. Moira wondered if that woman had ever existed.

After finding out her father was not only not her father, he hadn't even really wanted her. He accepted her because he got Morgan.

"How could you do that?" Moira asked brokenly, her voice barely above a whisper. Moira shifted into Katrina's eyesight and stared down at her. "Why would you do that to them?"

Morgan must've released a little more, because Katrina's voice was freer. "Moira, from the beginning, as soon as we found out about Morgan, we knew we needed her. She was the missing piece. We couldn't have anything interfere with that."

"Even if it made her happy?" Moira asked, tears beginning to trickle down her flushed face.

Katrina hung her head as much as she could. "I'm not proud of the way it happened." She admitted in defeat. "But as soon as we found her, and she came here, we couldn't let her leave. Not when she fit so well here, not when Colm was so in love with her he couldn't think straight."

Moira glanced over at her mum, who wasn't crying from heartbreak, like Moira. She stood there like a statue, still. These words seemingly having no effect on her.

"So you helped Iona." She spat. "You knew all along where he was, and you didn't mind seeing Mum destroy herself." Moira snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And what about me, Katrina? Why did you let her have me if I was Hunter's?"

Katrina let out a strangled sigh, a tear slipping out. Moira felt sick. "She had agreed to marry Colm, and he said that he couldn't do that to her."

"And if he hadn't accepted me, you would've caused Mum to miscarry."

Katrina stared pleadingly at Moira, not wanting to say the words. Moira stared back at her, hard, wanting to hear it for herself. "Yes," she choked out.

Moira pushed past her stunned coven mates, shaking Ian's hand away as he tried to grab her arm. She rushed out of the door, slamming it behind her, and began gasping in the cool night air.

She leaned against a fence post, trying not to sob, trying to be collected and strong like her mum. She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and after a moment she recognized Hunter. She leaned against him and began to cry.

Hunter didn't say anything, just let her cry it out, which she was grateful for. Colm would've tried to talk to her, try to distract her. She realized she needed this, she needed to break down all the way so she could start over. The past year and a half since his death had been the hardest for her. She thought her dad was dead, that she would never again have that close bond, that she was going to be stuck with her mother who only seemed to be present half the time, even when she was home.

But Katrina had done that to them, Colm was in on it, too. They had destroyed Morgan and taken Hunter's life away completely, abandoning him on that island, making him believe his love was dead.

All for a coven.

If it weren't for Colm doing the one right thing for Morgan, Moira wouldn't even exist. That was the hardest to cope with.

As the sobs subsided into hiccups, Moira leaned away from Hunter, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice thick and broken.

"Don't be," he said. She could tell he was really shaken from what just happened, too, but he was keeping it together for _her_.

Moira had grown comfortable with Hunter, especially in the last few months, though she hadn't been able to bring herself to call him dad. After tonight's revelations, she hated herself for that. Colm hadn't been a father to her. He'd been acting, the whole time. Maybe the older she got, the easier it was for him to deal with her. If she could acknowledge that Colm wasn't really her father, then why couldn't she acknowledge that Hunter _was_?

Without giving herself time to overthink it, she reached out and hugged Hunter, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms embraced her, and began to cry again.

 **.Morgan.**

Morgan kept Katrina in her hold, her thoughts drifting to just ending her, taking her out, making sure she wouldn't be a problem to someone else again, but she couldn't.

Moira had left, and she had watched Hunter go after her without hesitation and felt grateful. She didn't want Moira to be alone right now. She was aware of the coven member's eyes on her, scrutinizing her, practically begging her to stop.

Katrina had been working with Lilith and Iona from the beginning.

"Ian, did you know about this?" Morgan asked, her voice carefully controlled.

Ian tried to look away but steeled himself to face her. "Not until recently."

"How recent?" Morgan demanded. Ian's eyes cast down briefly to Katrina, then slowly back to Morgan, not meeting her gaze. "When we went to see Lilith?" Ian nodded. "A year, Ian?"

"I'm sorry, Morgan."

"No you're not," she spat. "If you were, you would've ratted Katrina out in an instant to spare Moira from any more pain. Is that why Katrina let you move in here? So you could keep her secrets?"

Ian didn't reply, only leaned against a wall in defeat.

"Katrina," Morgan said, kneeling down to her. "Is this really what you wanted?"

"Not like this," she muttered.

"I didn't know about any of you. I could've gone on with my plans to be with Hunter, and I would've been really happy. I wouldn't have known that you existed. I wouldn't have felt guilty for abandoning you."

Katrina labored a sigh. "You know this is what Maeve would've wanted, Morgan. To lead this coven like she was destined to do."

"Maeve didn't even want me to be a witch, Katrina." Morgan stood back up. "She didn't want me to go through any of this, but I chose it. I thought it was what was right for me. I wanted to learn everything, and when you came to me and begged me, I felt like I had an obligation to you. I felt like I owed it to you to make up for what my father had done. But I didn't, Katrina. I still don't. I owe you absolutely nothing."

"Haven't you been fulfilled here, Morgan? You were initiated, you're now a healer. You did everything you wanted to do, and you wouldn't have been able to without our help."

"Bullshit." Morgan took a step back so she could see Katrina clearly. "You know, I wish you never would've found me. You should've left me alone."

Katrina coughed a laugh. "You were a wide-eyed child when we found you—now look at you! You have so much power. We may have gone to extremes to make sure you stayed here, but it was for your own good!"

Shaking, trying to calm down, Morgan released Katrina, grabbed her things, and pushed past her coven mates to get to the door.

Morgan stopped quickly, seeing Moira hug Hunter. She felt so tired, like she could just lie down and sleep for days. Hunter caught Morgan's eye, and she slowly walked over to them, placing a hand on her daughter's back.

"It's okay," Morgan murmured, kissing Moira's temple. "Let's get you home."

Moira nodded after a moment, and she pulled back from Hunter. Morgan smoothed the hair out of her face and wrapped her arm around her waist, leading her back to the road.


	6. Chapter 6

**.Moira.**

"I still can't believe that happened," Tess said sympathetically.

Moira leaned up on her elbow to face her friends. They had all been quiet since Tess and Vita had arrived nearly half an hour ago. Moira hadn't been in the mood to see anyone, was sure Morgan wouldn't want her to spill her guts about the truths that had come out the night before. But they had come to her, wanting to help, like any best friends would do.

So the girls sat in Moira's room, Moira lying sideways on her bed, mute.

"Yeah," Vita agreed, "And Ian—"

"Don't." Moira interrupted stiffly. She noticed Tess and Vita exchange a glance and sat up straight in her bed.

"Well, you knew Ian's mum was involved," Vita said cautiously. "Maybe when he found out about your Gran, you didn't want to hurt you again, so he said nothing."

"She is not _anything_ to me," Moira said, wishing she'd never opened the door for them.

Morgan and Hunter had left early that morning to go speak with the New Charter, to report Katrina for her misuse of magick and her confession to having a hand in the accident. Her mum had asked her to lay low for the day, try to relax while they dealt with Katrina. And she had agreed, and had had every intention of doing just that – until her friends showed up.

"Moira, I know you're hurt, but you love her. One day you'll forgive her like you did with your dad, and wouldn't it be easier if you didn't put this wall up now?"

She stared at Vita, trying to make sense of it. It felt like a betrayal. "I haven't _forgiven_ him." Moira said coldly. "And he's not my dad. He helped Katrina keep me from my real dad and destroy my mum, so why do you keep defending him?" she demanded.

Vita sighed. "I just don't believe they did it entirely out of selfishness." She held up her hands as if in surrender. "Obviously they went about it in an extreme way, but they wanted Morgan to be successful as a witch, as a healer." She scoffed, smirking. "Goddess, do you really think you would've fared better as the New Charter founder's daughter?" Vita had the audacity to giggle, and Tess stiffened away from her, moving to join Moira on the bed. "He never would've been around. Morgan would be a pathetic little housewife, helping local people only, not doing the things she's accomplished over the years. Katrina and Colm were kind to her. They let her succeed."

"Get out." Moira demanded.

Vita raised her eyebrows. "Moira,"

"Go!"

With a huff, Vita got up and went to the door. "Call me when you've come to your senses, then." She tossed over her shoulder, heading down the hall.

When they heard the door open and slam shut, Tess moved to sit facing Moira.

"I had no idea she would say any of those things, Moira." Tess said, placing her hand over Moira's. "I'm so sorry."

Moira wiped away a tear that had leaked out and cleared her throat. "I don't believe it would've been like that." Moira said shakily. "I mean, he's so good for her, her challenges her—I just can't believe that he could've been like that and that Mum wouldn't have been a healer like she is now."

"Her mum has been talking bad about him because she was so close with Colm growing up—I think she's just projected her opinions onto Vita."

"And your parents? They don't do the same?"

Tess shifted uncomfortably. "They do… but I'd rather make my own opinions. I like Hunter. I think you're really lucky to have him now, when you couldn't before."

Moira nodded. "Thanks."

"Listen," Tess cleared her throat. "I'll probably piss Vita off for telling you this, but I think you should know." Moira waited, tucking her legs underneath her. "She was reading her parents' BOS and had asked her mum about a spell in it."

"What kind of spell?" Moira pressed as Tess struggled to articulate the words.

Tess held her hands palm up. "Basically," she went on. "It can be used to send a message—like a witch message only not,"

Moira's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why would Vita be mad that you told me this?"

"Because you can send a message to yourself… in the past," Tess's words tiptoed out of her mouth, as if she wanted them to sink in for Moira.

"So, in theory, I can send a message to my mum from before this all happened?"

Tess shook her head. "No. But Morgan can send one herself."

 **.Morgan.**

Morgan reluctantly lifted her head off of Hunter's shoulder as they pulled into the train station in Cobh. It had been an exhausting day. Over the last several years, she had grown a presence of her own within the New Charter as one of the most respected healers.

Now, today, she had almost been in the shadows as Hunter Niall made a grand reappearance. She absolutely did not envy the attention, she was proud that the witches he had founded the New Charter with had been so welcoming to him. And, most importantly, they had listened, and they were going to investigate Katrina. They already had Lilith in custody, and would question her further on the involvement of the Byrnes.

"Come on, love," Hunter murmured, kissing her forehead. "Almost home."

Morgan smiled at that, still completely filled with bliss at the reminder that her home now included him. She held his hand as they filed off the train. "I just want to get into bed and wait for this day to end."

As they arrived home, they could feel a shift in the air, frantic, panicked. Moira.

Morgan and Hunter rushed inside to find Moira sitting on the floor, surrounded by open spell crafting books.

She paid no attention to her parents' entrance, her eyes fixed completely on the page she was reading.

"Moira?" Morgan asked, lowering herself to the floor to sit in front of Moira. Her focus never faltered. "Moira, honey, what are you doing?"

After another silent minute, Moira gazed at Morgan, a look of hopefulness on her flushed face. She handed the book to Morgan, pointing to the spell she'd been transfixed by.

Morgan knew immediately what kind of spell this was, and was shocked Moira had gone to look for it. She'd tried to perform the spell so many times after the ferry accident—for a while she thought she had been making herself worse just by trying. It never once worked. She had realized that she needed to have a strong, clear mind, and by the time she had had that, her life had been in place.

She had been comfortable in her marriage, comfortable as a mother, and the dreams and guilt about Hunter had mercifully lessened. She hadn't needed to fix her life then, because she thought that everything was in the right place.

Now, though, she knew Hunter had been alive all this time. She knew what a weak and selfish man Colm had actually been, and her heart hurt for the years she'd been grateful for him. Katrina was a mess she wished she could walk away from, but that would affect the coven, and Morgan wouldn't feel right abandoning them.

When she had first tried crafting the spell, she had wanted to fix both hers and Hunter's lives. She had wanted to let him go see his parents before his mother died in Canada. She had wanted to turn down going to Scotland, because while it had been the most incredible summer of her life, she regretted meeting the Byrnes more than anything.

And if she had sent the spell out to prevent her going to Scotland, she could've prevented Moira, and she couldn't accept that. Morgan had believed for so long that Colm had given Moira to her, and she couldn't erase her existence out of selfishness.

Except she had never truly been his. She knew that now, and as she looked between Hunter and Moira, she knew that this was the right thing to do. And most importantly, she knew where to send the message.


	7. Chapter 7

**.Moira.**

She hadn't slept at all. By six the next morning she had gotten out of bed, giving up on the possibility of sleep. She wasn't going to go to school today, didn't see the point. If the spell they had started crafting actually worked the way they wanted it to, this wouldn't be her life anyway.

Her throat tightened with tears as she thought about what she was giving up. Her best friends, Ian, whom she still believed to be her MBD, all those happy memories with Colm.

She sat down at the kitchen table, allowing Bixby to leap off the counter and onto her lap, trying to comfort her. _I wouldn't know any different,_ she reasoned to herself.

Moira heard shuffling upstairs, and felt that Hunter was awake but that her mother was still asleep. Moira scratched Bixby's ears as she waited for him to come down to the kitchen. He acknowledged her with a tired smile, and Moira smiled back. She had a feeling that it had been a restless night for all—even the animals seemed on edge.

Her heart sank as her gaze fell on Finnegan lightly snoozing away on his dog bed. She wouldn't have known him either. A tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. She could hear Hunter put the kettle on and get out a few mugs.

"Moira," Hunter hesitated, and she turned her head to look at him. "We don't have to do it," he said gently. "And even if we do, there's no guarantee that it will work. You don't have to worry about goodbyes just yet."

She nodded. They were both quiet, thinking to themselves as Hunter poured tea into three separate mugs. He brought one over to her and sat across, placing a mug at Morgan's spot.

She took a sip and sniffled. "I want to try. I can't be selfish about it."

Hunter's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not selfish. It affects you, too."

"But I wouldn't know any different, right? My life would start over." Hunter nodded after a moment. "Would you want that?" she asked in a rush, and then clarified after his look of confusion. "I meant…with me. Like you and Mum raising me from the beginning."

"Of course," he said in a tone that made her feel guilty for even wondering about it. He set his mug down and reached for her hand, and she accepted it. "Moira, I wanted to start a family with her, and if I had known about you that morning, I wouldn't have left."

"But Iona would still be alive, she would still have your true name, so who's to stop her from making this happen all over again?" she demanded, exasperated. "Wouldn't it be better if we prevented her from getting it in the first place?"

"No." Morgan said firmly, making her jump as neither of them had sensed her coming downstairs. "If we go that far, you could end up not existing at all."

Moira stared down into her mug. "But if I was destined to be here, then surely the goddess would have a plan—"

"The answer is no. I'm not risking that." She said flatly, taking a seat.

"Mum,"

Morgan gripped Moira's chin with such a firm hold she was forced to make eye contact with her.

"I get that you're only trying to help and I appreciate that, but you need to understand that this is not negotiable. I will not take a chance if it means I could lose you."

Moira started to weep, the anger and sadness and exhaustion of the last few days hitting her like waves crashing onto rocks. Morgan stood and held Moira to her, and Moira clung to her as she hadn't since she was a little girl.

* * *

That evening, Morgan reluctantly accompanied Moira to Katrina's so she could say her goodbyes to Ian.

Though, of course, Ian wouldn't really know it was goodbye. Not for good. The story was London. As a backup plan, they would go there to further their work with the New Charter. Moira knew that while Katrina was still with Belwicket, they couldn't stay. And if she was taken into custody, Moira didn't want to have her parents ostracized for it.

She felt saddened by it, knowing that the coven she'd been raised in, her ancestral coven, would turn against them. She wished more than anything that she could stay and have things go back to normal.

She also wished that Katrina had never interfered. But she had, and this was the end result. For the first time, Moira truly felt hatred towards her.

"Are you sure about this?" Moira asked, tugging on Morgan's hand as they reached the house.

She nodded, giving Moira's hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's just for a few minutes. Don't hold anything back, sweetie. This may be your only chance."

Moira swallowed hard and fixed her gaze on the once-comforting door as it opened. Katrina stood in the doorway, waiting for them. They walked in unison, Katrina not saying a word as Moira moved past her to the stairs.

She stopped in front of Ian's door, waiting for him to feel her there, to open up for her. _I just need to see him,_ she told herself. _Then I can let him go._


	8. Chapter 8

**Super short chapter, but I'm working chapter 9 right now! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **.Morgan.**

"London?"

Morgan stood outside the door during the interaction with Katrina, wanting to be able to leave as soon as Moira came back down.

"Yes." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's what's best for us right now."

Katrina's eyes looked dull, almost colorless, in the pale light streaming in from the hall behind her. She copied Morgan's stance and cleared her throat. "How quick you are to walk away from your coven, your family."

Morgan's eyes narrowed a fraction. "My family is the reason I'm leaving. You're _toxic_ , Katrina. And as for this coven, you and I both know I was never going to inherit. Not from you." Morgan spat. "You used me. You've _been_ using me, this whole time! So why the hell would I stay _now_?"

The older woman had the audacity to laugh. It was such an odd, cheerful sound that made Morgan's senses go on alert. She was acting so unlike the woman she had known for the past twenty years. She knew her mother-in-law, who had brought her here, had helped her set up her first apartment, had gotten her through her initiation, had been a second mother to her, had cared for her when she couldn't care for herself…

But that had all been a lie. Everything. She didn't know this woman; this cold, calculating, uncaring monster with the face of a woman she'd loved so dearly.

"I just wanted to let you know in person that you'll be formally investigated by New Charter." Morgan told her, taking a slight step back, rocking on her heels. Katrina's smirk shifted into a grimace, and her mouth set in a hard line. She stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open, and left Morgan's sight.

Morgan sighed, waiting for Moira to finish talking to Ian. She knew how devastated she felt, and wished her daughter didn't have to go through her first heart break. Not on top of everything else.

 **.Moira.**

Moira and Ian sat on his bed, not speaking. Ian held her hand in his, not wanting to let go. She hadn't been able to get the words out, had instead sent them to him through witch message. She could feel his unwillingness to let her go, and wanted to hold him to her, to never be separated.

She knew Hunter had meant it when he'd told her she had a choice—but she couldn't do that to them. She just had to believe, and keep telling herself, that if she and Ian are meant to be, that the goddess will make sure they find their way back to each other. Her parents were the proof of that.

Moira leaned over and lightly pressed her lips to Ian's.

"Please don't leave," he breathed when their lips parted.

She pulled back slightly. "I have to."

"For good?"

"I think so," she replied, her voice shaky. "I don't think we'll ever come back here."

Ian grabbed her chin in his hand and kissed her more firmly on the mouth. "Then I'll come find you." He swore, and Moira wanted to tell him the truth.

The only thing that stopped her was knowing that he'd lied to her for the past year. He helped Katrina too much, and she couldn't take a chance on the spell being interrupted.

They had one chance, and it had to count.

"I hope you can," she whispered. "I really do." She kissed him once more, slipped her hand out of his, and left his bedroom.

Moira walked out of the house without another word, ignoring her mother along the way. She felt Morgan's steps several feet behind her, and was grateful she was apparently giving her space.

 **.Morgan.**

Morgan gazed around the room, the candle flames almost too bright for her eyes. She felt unusually dizzy for having performed a spell, and let the weight of her power sink her onto the floor so she could ground herself.

She couldn't feel Hunter or Moira. They had left her to perform the spell, and had stood close by in case they needed to step in to help her.

The spell had been simple enough, a mix of English and Gaelic, but it sapped everything from her. She had intertwined every vital piece of information her brain could pull from her memories.

When she had tried many years ago, she hadn't felt a thing. She had received no confirmation that the spell had worked. Now, as powerful and focused as she was, she felt as though the energy sap was payment to the goddess for finally granting her this ability.

It had to work. It just had to.


	9. Chapter 9

My head was killing me the second my eyes opened. My heart was racing. My breathing was rapid and shallow. What the hell was going on?

Then it hit me.

I raced out of bed, just barely making it to the toilet before my stomach heaved. Lightning fast images crashed through my brain relentlessly; Hunter and a ferry. A baby, my daughter. Marrying Colm Byrne. Hunter _dead_. Colm dead. Hunter _not_ dead. Katrina. Iona? Hunter _dead_ , _drowning_ , his body lost at sea.

My body curled in on itself, collapsing with broken sobs as I lay on the floor in the bathroom in my room… in Wales. Not Cobh. I snapped my gaze to the bed, where Hunter continued to sleep soundly in the dim early morning light. He must still be exhausted from all the traveling.

I flushed the toilet and stood on shaky legs to the sink to brush my teeth. I stared at myself in the mirror. I was still me—long brown hair, hazel eyes that seemed far too wide for my face at the present moment, light skin that seemed paler than usual, like I was in shock.

I held my hair back as I rinsed the toothpaste from my mouth and stared at myself again, drying my hands on a towel. It had all seemed so real, so vivid. Like a memory coming at me with full clarity. I leaned against the counter, breathing deeply and slowly, trying to focus and sift out the jangled images I had seen.

First was Iona, the sister I had never met but knew all too well of from Killian. Why would she want to hurt me? What could she possibly gain from that?

Next was Katrina, the woman I loved like another mother. She's been nothing but kind to me since I'd first met her, so warm and welcoming. Whatever caused me to have a vision of her acting so evilly had to be a deep subconscious fear—I knew Katrina wouldn't do that to me.

Then the most shocking thing of all: a baby. _My_ baby. I had seen myself married to Katrina's son, Colm, and wanted to recoil. Was he the father of this baby? I hoped not. I liked him, but I didn't love him—I didn't think it could ever be possible to love someone else when my heart belonged entirely to Hunter.

A noise caught my attention, and I opened my eyes and saw Hunter watching me in the mirror from the bed.

"Morgan?" he asked, and I started to weep, the vision of losing him too much to bear. It was the one I didn't want to confront, the thought too horrible to even acknowledge. He came over to me, taking me into his arms. I clung to him hard, pressing every possible inch of my body against him. He tried to relax the hold on my arms, but I couldn't let him. "Morgan, love, what's going on?"

I pulled back enough to look at him, holding his face in my hands. My eyes roamed over every detail. He looked the same as he did yesterday, the same as he did when I first met him, though slightly more defined now that he was a grown man. He had looked so horrible in the vision, beaten down, old. I choked down the bile that rose in my throat as the image bombarded my mind again.

"I thought you were dead," I choked out. His green eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed as he tried to understand.

"In your nightmare?" he asked, smoothing the hair back from my face. "You were pretty restless for a while. I was just able to go back to sleep about an hour ago." He kissed my temple and I sniffled.

I shook my head quickly. "It wasn't a nightmare. You were dead—I _thought_ you were dead, for _years_. It was a vision. I don't know how, but it's true. You went down with the ferry—you were just _gone_! And I married someone else and had a baby, and—"

"Morgan." Hunter said firmly, cutting me off. He gripped the tops of my arms. "I never told you I was getting on a ferry."

I swallowed hard, shaking from the leftover fear flooding my system. "But you are, aren't you? To Wexford, for your last New Charter meeting, right? The eight-oh-five ferry." More tears started slipping out in fat drops as the finer details came to me.

Hunter just stared at me, stunned, horrified. "So I'll reschedule," he managed to say, trying to keep his tone businesslike and efficient.

"You don't get it," I pulled back. "It's gonna happen no matter what!" I was struck by the truth of my words. I went into the room and started pulling on any clothes of mine I could reach and then sat on the wooden floor.

I looked up at him, silently asking him to join me. He hesitated but followed my lead after a moment. Once he was settled across from me, he took my hands in his and stroked them reassuringly with his thumbs, and I wanted to hold him to me and never let him out of my grasp.

"I just need you to see what I saw," I whispered, feeling like I was losing my mind.

We'd done this before, ages ago. I had flushed out his mind, seen practically every event in his life, and he had seen mine. It had been so much simpler back then. I had been making sure he wasn't a psychopath hell-bent on destroying Cal and Selene out of a lifelong grudge, and he had been making sure I wasn't in league with their plans of destroying non-Woodbane witches.

And now, I needed him to see the horrible things that I had. I needed him to understand in a way I couldn't explain.

As our minds fell into sync with each other, I could feel every ounce of tension leave my body. I trusted him more than anyone, wanted to have no secrets from him, and he seemed to feel the same. I saw the places he'd been recently, felt the overwhelming exhaustion mixed with exhilaration as his plans for the New Charter were coming together and falling perfectly into place. I felt his frustration and loneliness at not having me with him through all of it, and felt guilty.

Last night when he had asked me to marry him, when he'd promised to cut back on traveling and be based out of Cobh, I'd been beyond thrilled. I knew that he would do anything to make me happy, even if it meant sacrificing his goals. I almost broke off contact from the pain of knowing the extent of what he would do for me, and how inflexible I had been. He would make things work however I presented them; I made things black and white, one way or another.

I had been so awful, and hadn't even realized it.

I knew Hunter could feel my shame over my actions, but chose to move past it. I let him see all the images as best as I could remember them from my dream. The ferry, Katrina, Iona, even Colm and the baby. I wanted to pull away, to not see it all again, but his mind was so intertwined with mine that it would've hurt us both.

His ex-seeker investigative thought process probed deeper into the Iona part, making me see things I hadn't noticed before. She brings down the ferry, takes him with his true name. Katrina had assisted her, had been the whole time I'd known her.

The baby, the little girl, was Hunter's, which meant that I had to be pregnant now, or at the very least still conceiving.

Years and years spent grieving Hunter, marrying Colm out of desperation to not be alone, believing my child was his—it was too much. Too much to bear.

Slowly, uncomfortably, Hunter pulled away from our _tàth meanma_ , and I tried to keep hold of his hands, but avoided eye contact.

"I think we need to have a talk," he said softly, pulling his hands away. I nodded, folding my arms across my chest. "I need to make some calls first."

As Hunter got up, we heard the first bang. Eyes wide, we got up to go to the window, seeing nothing at first but hearing the panicked shouts and running footsteps through the building. _Oh, Goddess_.


	10. Chapter 10

During the frenzy, I was torn between going to help, and knowing that Hunter could be pulled away at any moment.

He was anxiously contacting the other witches he worked with. I was too panicked to really focus on listening in on his calls, so I steeled myself to start packing. I wanted to leave—to go back to Ireland, get Dagda, and sleep for days, pretending this had all been just a dream.

As my senses were on overdrive, I could feel every single vibration coming from my luggage. It took half a second to recognize the sigils on my bags, sigils that had been so faint before but now glowed with an eerie presence. Katrina really had been watching me, this whole time. She wanted harm to come to me and Hunter, to drive us apart from each other.

I sat back on my heels, stunned.

"Morgan," I heard Hunter say impatiently, and I set down my bag and turned to look at him. His phone was clutched in his hand. "How quickly can you pack up?"

Confused, I gestured to my already packed bags. "I am," I said, standing up.

"I meant in Cobh."

It took me a second to understand him. "What?" I asked cautiously. "Hunter, I can't just leave—"

He reached out and took me by the wrist of my outstretched arm and made me look at him. He was still angry, trying to stay controlled. I hated seeing him like this when I was the recipient. It made me feel like an errant child who had disobeyed orders once again.

"Morgan, I can't keep you safe if you stay there. I have to go to London and sort this mess out." He sighed and released my wrist. He tossed his phone onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead. I rested my chin on his chest and let my eyes close. "Please come with me until we can rule Katrina out."

I took a step back, nodding, and he released his hold on me. I sat down on the bed to put on my shoes. Hunter checked the bedroom and bathroom to make sure neither of us had missed anything. As soon as I laced up my second boot, he was holding the door open for me. I grabbed my luggage and led the way out.

* * *

As soon as we were inside my apartment, Dagda greeted us with an irritated growl, as if offended I'd left for a couple of days. He hopped down from the arm of the couch and began to wind himself around my ankles. I bent down to pick him up, my eyes searching for his crate.

I ignored his mews of complaint and slid him into it, tracing runes of peace and comfort on the metal bars closing him in. I gently set the crate on the kitchen counter, sneaking a few treats into it to keep him occupied while we packed my things.

"Books are mine," I started to say, knowing I needed to hurry up. "I'll get my clothes and tools. All the furniture is borrowed."

He nodded once, going over to the bookshelf. He started to pile them on the kitchen table and I took a deep breath and went into my bedroom.

Fortunately, I hadn't really brought much with me when I had moved here, and my choices of clothing hadn't changed. If I had taken time to fold my clothes, I could've stuffed them into one suitcase, two including shoes and bathroom supplies.

But as I was in an urgent time crunch, I had three packed to the brim, just barely able to zip shut. I went to retrieve the tools from the top shelf in my closet, stretching on my tiptoes to locate the old metal box.

I couldn't feel it, couldn't feel the vibrations of it. My stomach clenched as I remembered where they were. I had been working with Katrina and Susan the day before I left for Wales. They were still in the workroom there.

I was such an idiot.

I wheeled my suitcases out to the living room and tried to organize my mess. Hunter had gotten all the books into a small carry on suitcase and I felt grateful. I knew he could sense my jittery nerves.

"I have to go to Katrina's and get my tools," I said carefully, watching his face for any reaction. "I left them there the other day."

Hunter agreed after a moment, starting to grab my luggage. "Act as normally as you can. Don't give any indication that something is wrong."

"Okay," I said, following him outside to the car with the rest. I had to go back inside to grab Dagda.

I took a last look around, making sure I hadn't left something I couldn't live without. Sighing, I ran my sleeve over my eyes that were tearing up. I was exhausted. I didn't want to leave, not when I felt so at home here. I belonged here with this coven.

But I felt deep down that I truly belonged with Hunter, and if he couldn't be here, neither could I. We'd already tried that and it had been horrible.

My throat felt tight, constricted, as I shut the door behind me and locked up.

I directed him down the road to the house. By unspoken agreement, he stayed in the car. I let myself in, sensing Katrina and Keady Dove in the kitchen. Their laughter floated down the hall.

"Morgan?" Katrina called, her voice light with friendly conversation.

"Yeah," I called back, clearing my throat. "Hi." I rounded the corner and saw the two of them sitting at the table with mugs of tea and open books. This was normal. The Katrina in her vision had been horrible, evil.

My head throbbed.

I tried my best to return Keady's smile of acknowledgment and shifted my weight. "Um, I left my tools here? The other day."

"Oh!" Katrina said, standing. "Yes, you did. I meant to have Colm return them while he fed Dagda. Sorry about that,"

My eyebrows knit in confusion. "Colm did?"

Katrina led me to their workroom. "I was in the middle of something and couldn't make it over." She said simply.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have been that weirded out about it. Under these new circumstances, however, in which Katrina was in league to kill my boyfriend and her son was openly in love with me, I was beyond weirded out. I felt so exposed, vulnerable, and just wanted to hide. I wondered how many other times Colm had been in my apartment when I wasn't there, feeding Dagda while I was away.

I felt my shoulders tense as she rested a hand on my upper back.

"Are you alright then?"

"Mm-hmm," I murmured, my voice higher than intended. "Yeah, just beat is all."

She handed over the box, and I subtly sent my senses out to it, making sure all of my tools were inside. They were, and they were still protected and bound to me. I internalized a sigh of relief and went out into the hall.

"Stay for a bit, tell us about your trip."

I shook my head. "Another time, I really am quite tired."

Katrina shrugged easily. "Sure," she agreed, and I nodded a goodbye to Keady and left.

That had gone much easier than expected, and I clutched the box in my hands to me protectively. Hunter was in the car, on his phone, and didn't look up as I got to my door.

I heard the door to the house open and Colm call out to me, stopping me in my tracks. I turned quickly, hoping he would stay put. I couldn't deal with him on top of everything else.


	11. Chapter 11

**Kind of a longer chapter as a Thanksgiving gift. I just wanted to thank anyone who reads, and especially those who've taken the time to review, I seriously appreciate it!**

* * *

"Morgan?" Colm called, moving closer to me.

"Colm, I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood to talk right now." I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. I didn't know how much more I could handle today.

Colm stopped about a foot away from me, reaching his arm out to grasp mine in what I assumed to be an affectionate, comforting gesture. I tensed but didn't shrug him off. "You feel weird," he murmured. "Like…frazzled. Are you okay?" he dropped his voice even more, his eyes glancing to the car behind me. He began to rub my arm in gentle strokes.

"Please don't do that," I whispered, not looking into his eyes.

He stopped near my shoulder, gripping my upper arm firmly. "Is that him, then?" he nodded towards the car.

"Yes," I gnawed on my bottom lip, trying to stay calm as I felt his grip tighten almost painfully. I could feel Hunter's hyperaware presence—he was watching us, Colm in particular, waiting for him to snap so he could intervene.

Colm scoffed. "You're leaving." A statement, not a question. I nodded. "That prick just waltzes back in here, back into your life, and you destroy everything you've worked for?"

"Excuse me?" I gasped. I had never _ever_ seen Colm lose his temper.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he demanded, grabbing my other arm as well. Hunter got out of the car and came over to us. Colm relaxed his grip on me but still held me at arm's length. Not acknowledging Hunter, he continued. "Think of all the progress you've made here, with us—why would you want to run away from that?"

His voice had softened, and he tried to take one of my hands that was still holding the metal box to my chest. "You need to stop." I said, stepping out of his reach. Colm's normally friendly, cheerful eyes suddenly took on a furious burn as he watched me step slightly behind Hunter. I rested my hand on his back softly, grabbing just a little bit of his jacket in my fist.

"You're making a mistake, Morgan. Your life won't be any different with him than it has been—he's going to keep making his work priority while you follow him around like a little dog! You're so much better than that!"

"You don't know _anything_ ," I said, appalled.

"I know that if you leave, you'll regret it!" Colm spat.

"And why is that?" Hunter demanded in a cool tone.

Colm's glare shifted to Hunter, and he backed down ever so slightly, noticing his height, his strength, his willingness for battle if that's what it came to. "You don't deserve her." He said, his voice losing the sharp edge. "Do you even realize how incredible she is? Do you know that every time she came back from seeing you, it would take her days to get back on track, days for her to even smile again?"

I let out a breath, resting my forehead on Hunter's tensed shoulder blade.

"Yes," Hunter surprised me by saying. "I felt the same. It was a hell that I wouldn't wish upon anyone." He went on. "But that doesn't mean you get to sweep in and pick up the pieces. I'm not leaving Morgan for my work. I've made that mistake already."

I could almost sense Colm's disappointment at the route Hunter chose—he had wanted a battle, wanted to fight for me, and I felt sick. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, sending out my senses to Hunter. This was all my fault, I realized. I had caused this mess.

 _I'm sorry_ , I sent to Hunter. _I'm so sorry for all of this_.

"I'm not just going to stand by and watch you fall for this. You belong here, Morgan." He said, his eyes willing me to come join him.

They were sad, hopeless. He wanted me with him, wanted me in Cobh with him, with Belwicket. I felt my own eyes fill with tears but didn't have the energy to cry. All of my hopes and dreams for this coven were disappearing, too. My goal to be high priestess like Maeve had been destined to be, to be a gifted healer, to work endlessly for something I knew could be made great again.

It was the same predicament Hunter was in. This was the reason I wanted us to break up. I didn't want to be in pain anymore. But Hunter had seen something I hadn't until just now: I was welcomed anywhere he was, and Hunter would never be welcomed here. Not in the way he would need to be to feel comfortable making magick in this coven.

It broke my heart.

Katrina working with Iona to destroy me was nothing compared to this pain, not when Hunter was right here with me in the place I wanted to be my home. I wanted to have my children grow up here, and they never would. Cobh could never be my home without Hunter.

Still mostly hidden behind Hunter, I let one hand drift down to rest on my belly, where the tiny baby was just barely starting to form. A slight smile began on my face, my tears falling down my cheeks relentlessly. I would be okay.

I could leave Cobh, leave Belwicket, and be okay. Hunter and I could start over anywhere. We could start a new coven. I could meet witches outside of Belwicket to work with me on my healing.

I wouldn't be destroying my life, as Colm had put it. I would just be starting a new one. Perhaps the one I would've had had Katrina Byrne not walked into my life.

Swallowing hard, I looked up at Colm, stepping into view. "I don't," I said. I felt Hunter's confusion as he looked down at me quickly. I reached my hand down and laced my fingers with his. "I belong with you." I told Hunter, gazing hard into his stunningly green eyes. "I don't care where." I smiled up at him through my tears and hoped he could read me, see that I meant it.

"Morgan," Colm said pleadingly.

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be." I sniffled. "I want to be where Hunter is."

Colm's gaze shifted from me to Hunter, and he let out his breath in a sigh. "You know, don't you?" he asked. I held my breath and waited for him to elaborate.

 _Was he about to confess?_

"Morgan, I swear, it was done for your own good." Colm stammered, holding up his hands in defense. "Mum would've never agreed to it if it meant you would get hurt."

"So you admit you've all been spying on me and giving intel to Iona?" I demanded. Colm looked as if he could have a nervous breakdown at any moment. "You've been placing runes and watch sigils on my things when I go to see Hunter, reading my Book of Shadows—what the hell is the matter with all of you?"

"We did it because we care!" he insisted. "We're worried about you!"

Hunter lightly wrapped his arm around my waist and steered me to the car. I didn't fight him. I wanted this all to be over.

"Morgan!" Colm called. The desperation in his voice would've made me turn back to him had Hunter not opened the car door and guided me in.

Hunter got into the driver's side, turned the key, and started pulling back onto the road. I let my head drop into my hands and finally gave myself permission to sob.

* * *

The hotel's shower head was intense, spraying my pale skin with hot needles of water that felt surprisingly wonderful. I'd been in here nearly an hour—the shower was the only thing I cared to notice once we had gotten into the room, and I was stripping out of my clothes and turning on the faucet before the door was fully shut.

Hunter had gone out to meet with some colleagues, both of the New Charter and former members of the International Council of Witches, which was all but disbanded now.

I leaned my head against the cool tiled wall of the shower. London was a good distraction in all its beautiful chaos. It was impossible to be bored in this city, which made it a great place to lose your thoughts and worries for a while.

So much had happened in the last few days that it was still hard to make sense of everything. Wales had been a nightmare. Cobh had been a disaster that I wished was a nightmare so that I could wake up and carry on my day as normal with my ancestral coven.

But I had chosen this path, Hunter, and this incredible shower head.

I heard the door to the room open and sensed Hunter coming in. Reluctantly, I turned off the faucet and wrung out my long hair. I grabbed a towel off the hook next to the shower and dried off, then grabbed the convenient plushy white hotel robe.

Hunter was lying back on the bed when I opened the door from the bathroom, the steam pouring out into the room in a translucent cloud of heat. He was fully dressed, shoes still on. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing back and forth slightly as if he had a headache. I lied next to him on my side, and he didn't stop me from drawing runes on his forehead to rid the ache and relax him. After a few moments his breathing became even, but he still kept his eyes shut.

"Did it go okay?" I asked softly.

He nodded once and turned on his side to face me. He opened his eyes and wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing me against him.

"Katrina and the rest of them will go through a formal inspection," he said, kissing my nose and then my lips briefly. "Iona has a case against her with the old council, so it's difficult to take over with this." He sighed. "But I spoke with Kennett, and he seems willing to work with us on this."

I rested my head on his chest and felt him flinch from my wet hair suddenly under his jaw. "And what about us?" I asked.

"If I'm being honest," he began in a mild tone. "I would rather have you escorted back to Widow's Vale until this is all sorted." I looked up at him in disbelief, and he interrupted as I was about to argue. "But I know you better than that. So I'm willing to compromise."

"That being…?"

"I can easily work in New York—I have enough connections there. I know you don't want to live in the city, so could we find a place halfway between the city and Widow's Vale?"

I kept staring at him, waiting for his words to sink in. "You would do that?"

Hunter nodded. "I'm sorry we can't stay in Cobh, I truly am, but if this could be an alternative, would you do it?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Absolutely, yes."

He began to stroke my back. "In the meantime," he murmured tiredly, eyes drifting shut again. "I'd like you to go to Widow's Vale and wait for me. I don't want you around this."

"Hunter—"

"Morgan." His expression was solemn. "Please. It won't be for long. I just need to know that you're okay and taken care of." He rolled his eyes at my look of annoyance. He knew my argument would be that I could take care of myself. "Not that you're not capable of protecting yourself, Goddess knows I'd be an idiot to think otherwise, but I want you as far away from all of this as possible. I don't know what else Iona could have in store for us."

I swallowed, weighing the request. "Okay," I said after a moment. "Just don't make me wait forever."


	12. Chapter 12

**Super short chapter but I needed it to get on with the next part of the story, which will take place about a year after this chapter. Thank you to my lovely reviewers! I will be working on this, Love and Death, and a little bit of Chemicals react for the time being. I have the rest of this story outlined and as soon as I've completed these three I will focus on my other stories...and then maybe write another story that may involve Justine in Widow's Vale... Stay tuned!**

* * *

"So are we going to talk about it?"

Hunter looked up from his laptop at my question and waited for me to elaborate. He had been back from London for a little over two weeks, and in the midst of Iona, the council, the New Charter, and moving into a tiny rental house, we hadn't had much time to discuss certain pressing matters.

I dragged a chair from the dining room over to his desk and sat down facing him. Hunter leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. There were slight dark circles under his eyes and he looked paler than usual. I knew he hadn't been sleeping much, and when he did, it wasn't for long. The only time I'd ever seen him this beat was when we had been facing the dark wave.

"With everything going on, and the uncertainty of Iona," I started, and he groaned softly, rubbing his eyes in a tired, defeated gesture. "I'm in no rush to get married."

Hunter's eyes slid away from mine briefly and he took my hands in his, rubbing the top of my Claddagh ring with his thumb. "I," he began, then cleared his throat. "I'm actually relieved to hear you say that. I want it to be perfect—not rushed together for fear of the unknown."

"I agree." I murmured, sliding my hands out his light grip. "And the other thing…" I said leadingly, glancing down at my abdomen.

There had been absolutely no mention of the baby since we had joined minds. I knew that she was the last thing he wanted to be concerned with—we were both in danger and both in a transition. For the first time in four and a half years, we would be living together, making a life with each other, and a new baby would surely test our limits. But she was here and she was ours, and we would have to make the best of the situation.

I had never known for sure if I wanted to have kids. The vision I'd had in the woods when I was seventeen of my daughter had established the possibility of it, but plans changed—nothing was certain. I had thought, anyway. In what other scenario could I have gotten pregnant? Even in the headiest, angriest, _drunkest_ times, one of us had performed a contraceptive spell. That night—each time—in Wales, we had taken care of it. The girl in the vision from the woods and the daughter from the vision of my future were the same. Which, in a way, meant that even when I was with Cal, the Goddess had known I would eventually procreate with Hunter.

During his proposal, Hunter had said that he wanted children with me. I had felt so elated, so secure in that idea of happiness. But now I was twenty-one, unmarried with no plans of a hand fasting in sight, living in sin in a too-small, too-expensive rental, and expected a baby with a man who had the weight of the world on his exhausted shoulders.

No one except for Hunter knew. As scared as I was to talk about it with him, the thought of the conversation with my parents was far worse. My mom had found out Hunter and I were having sex shortly after my eighteenth birthday, and she had been surprisingly cool about it—she hadn't been thrilled, of course, but she had listened as objectively as possible and had wanted to make sure I was okay and healthy. After the decision had been made to move to Ireland, I could feel her sadness of my slipping away from them, and had cried myself to sleep with guilt for weeks after my arrival. As time went by and the tie to them had been all but severed, I had felt free, independent, for the first time in my life.

Now that I didn't have Belwicket, the tie to my adoptive family was back. They were still scared for me, for my future and soul. Scared I was going to get myself killed, and they weren't too far off. The baby was going to either be great news that brought us together, or the final straw. I could only put those people through so much before they gave up on me completely.

"It's not ideal right now, not at all," he said, his gaze moving from my stomach to my eyes. "But I think you and I both know planning for this really isn't in our genes." He smiled wryly, and I felt Hunter, _my_ Hunter, start to come back.

"What does that mean?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

Hunter took my hand again and started absently tracing the lines of my left palm. "Bastards conceived through affairs."

I laughed. "I guess that's true, huh?" I agreed. I leaned forward and kissed him softly, relishing in the softness of his lips. I pulled away and leaned back in my chair, my left hand still in Hunter's right. "But my parents were _muìrn beatha dàns,_ and _your_ parents were _muìrn beatha dàns_ , and _we_ are… so doesn't that kind of balance it all out?"

"I suppose," he murmured, bringing my hand to his lips. "We'll just have to do a better job raising her than they did for us."

I snorted. "I don't think that'll be too challenging," I said with a grin. "And at least she wasn't conceived through an affair—already a better start than we had."

Hunter and I just looked at each other for several long seconds; admiring each other, weighing the seriousness of each other's words, the deeper meaning. We were suspended in a silent promise of commitment to our future, to our new life together, and the look in his eyes made me feel all shivery and happy.

"Love you," we said, and then laughed at the mutual words.


	13. Chapter 13

**.One Year Later.**

"At least consider it," my mom said cheerfully.

I suppressed a sigh and stirred some lemon into my iced tea. "I just don't think we can afford to buy anything right now—and we're only thirty minutes outside the city. We can't move much further than that."

"You could get a loan, Morgan. Plenty of financing options for first time homebuyers."

Since probably the minute my daughter was born, my mom had gone into realtor mode and kept throwing listings of what she knew was my dream house—and they were all way out of my price range and too far away from where Hunter worked. Conveniently close to Widow's Vale, though.

"I don't have a steady income, we're not married, and he's not even American." I said, a little harsher than I had intended. "What could we possibly get with that?"

Mom sighed sympathetically and straightened Moira's hat to keep the sun off her face. "I just hate that you're alone with a baby all day, _every_ day, in that dingy little place."

I took a bite of my food, barely tasting anything. This morning my mom had called and wanted to take us out for lunch, and I had agreed after much persuasion. It was a decision I was now regretting.

"Honey, I'm worried about you." Mom said, finally getting to the point of why she'd asked me out for the day. "Have you considered seeing a… doctor?"

My eyes narrowed in confusion, and I looked down at Moira, who was entirely consumed with her pureed peaches. "For what?" I asked, using my napkin to wipe off the dripping fruit from her white outfit.

"Just to talk."

"So a therapist." I stated, meeting Mom's eyes. Then I realized where she was going with this. "I don't have postpartum depression." I told her, feeling vulnerable as she judged my reaction.

"You won't leave the house—every time I call, she's crying in the background…" Mom didn't look at me as she continued. "I just feel like if you lived closer, I could check on you—Eileen and Paula would more than happy to help out, too."

I sat back, stunned. She'd been talking to her sister about my reclusiveness. "I'm fine." I insisted. "And to be perfectly honest, I don't appreciate you talking about me behind my back. I'm a new mom, I have so much going on that you don't know about, and Hunter is gone a lot. I'm not _depressed_ —I'm stressed and exhausted. I like to be at home with Moira and keep her with me."

Mom's face remained pained. She was afraid for me, and I kept letting her down. I looked at my daughter again, watching her make a mess. The waitress came and refilled our drinks, and my mom said thanks for the both of us. I should have realized that today had been a set up. For months now, Mom and Mary K. had been trying to lure me out of the house with promises of spa days or seeing a movie while my aunt babysat. But I couldn't let myself let her go, even for a day.

Ever since I had the baby, I'd been on edge, constantly anxious about where Moira was and always asking Hunter for updates on Iona, even though there had been nothing new.

Up until I gave birth six months ago, I felt fine leaving the house. Once I had her, though, once she was no longer connected to me physically, panic arose out of nowhere. I had decided that if I was in my house with the best protection spells I knew surrounding us, the protection spells on Moira herself, we would be safe from Iona. I knew she was plotting, and the lack of change with her questioning in the old council was unnerving me. Out here, I was vulnerable to her and whoever else she employed to torment me.

"Morgan?"

I met my mom's eyes, seeing their guilt and concern, and felt terrible all over again. She was only trying to help, and I knew that, but if she had any idea what I was facing she would understand why I stayed at home. Or she would beg that I leave Wicca and revert to Catholicism.

"Morgan, what happened in Ireland?"

I thought for several moments, trying to piece together an answer that wouldn't frighten her. I couldn't tell her that I'd had a vision from my future self—she would have me committed—and I couldn't tell her what Katrina was really up to, or that Iona, my blood sister, wanted me to suffer. Mom either wouldn't understand, or she would demand to know everything and spin it around to this being the reason she wanted me to let go of the notion that I was a witch in the first place. Wicca to my parents meant death and destruction. They couldn't see the beauty and sense of peace and belonging I felt with magick, and if I told her that mine and Hunter's lives were at stake, they would never truly accept me as a witch.

They would always fear for me, and maybe one day they would _fear_ me.

And I couldn't let that happen.

"The Byrnes weren't who I thought they were after all," I said simply. "They had plans for me that I wasn't okay with, so I left. The timing worked out with Hunter, and we decided to come back here."

"What kind of plans?"

I licked my lips, feeling how dry my mouth had gotten, and took a sip of my tea. "They were trying to get me involved with their son, Colm. They wanted me to marry into their family."

It wasn't a lie.

"Did they know about Hunter?"

"They knew I had a boyfriend who I rarely saw because he traveled so much for work." I said evenly, feeling irritation rise again at their audacity. "But they were trying to manipulate me, so I left."

Mom nodded in understanding, but I knew deep down she didn't buy it. She was letting it go for now, but this conversation was far from over.

* * *

Moira screamed the whole way back. I had driven with the front windows rolled down in the hopes that the sounds of the road could help mute her shrill cry, and it had a little bit. Hunter's car was parked in the carport, so I pulled up behind it. As soon as I was in park and rolled the windows up, Moira's cries subsided, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

I cut the engine and got out, stretching my arms. What should have been an hour and a half at most driving back had been over three with traffic. I went around and opened the door to get Moira, who looked utterly angelic as she slept—a direct contrast to how she was when she was awake.

I grabbed my bag and the handle of her car seat and walked up to the house. The front door was ajar, so I used my foot to push it open all the way. Hunter sat, bent over, on one of living room chairs, cell phone clenched in his hand.

"Hey," I said cautiously, setting my bag down next to the shoe rack. I slipped off my sandals and shut the door behind me. "You okay?"

Hunter shook his head and slammed his phone down on the coffee table. I set the car seat down quickly and went over to him, sitting on the arm of the couch next to him.

"What happened?" I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed and kneaded it. He didn't brush me off, so that was a good sign.

Hunter sat up stiffly and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was trying to calm down. "The council is letting Iona go."

"What?" I gasped, feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach.

"Not enough evidence, they said. Kennett just informed me that they can't hold her any longer." He spat, looking furious.

"H-how could they do that?" I choked out. "If they're just going to let her go, why can't they release her to the New Charter? Why can't they—"

"Because this is what they do!" he barked. "This is what they do, Morgan, they fuck everything up! They fuck things up and make everyone else pick up the pieces."

I shifted myself to sit on the cushion, trying not to cry. I knew his anger wasn't directed at me.

After several long, silent minutes, he said, "I'm sorry."

I shook my head and gave him a watery smile, feeling my eyes pool with tears. "Is there anything _I_ can do?"

Hunter rested his hand on my knee. "Aside from learning her true name and forcing her to fess up, no. We've been at this for a year. We almost had a deal set with the council to release custody to us, and then they pull this." He squeezed my knee absently, and I placed my hand on his. "We almost had her, Morgan." he scoffed. "We were _this close_ , and… nothing. That's it."

"Surely there are other council members who could help—you couldn't have burned _all_ your bridges when you left." I took a deep breath, keeping thoughts of a free Iona out of my mind for now. "Kennett's a bust, but what about Eoife, or—"

"Eoife is sticking with the council." He said bitterly. "My quitting the council was one thing, but she took the success of the New Charter rather personally."

"That's ridiculous," I argued. "This isn't a matter of loyalty—it's about right and wrong."

Hunter chuckled humorlessly and took his hand back. "Loyalty to the council far outweighs right and wrong. Look how many times you and I have been in danger because of their inabilities—because of their procedures."

I nodded sourly, feeling years-long agitation with the International Council of Witches rise up again. "For practically being a novelty now, they sure are holding the reigns of what they have pretty tightly."

"Yes," he agreed. He was still for a moment, lost in thought. "Wait," he murmured, almost to himself, and then met my eyes with a spark of a new plan.

"What?" I asked, feeling lost. What could he possibly have to feel hopeful about right now?

"They won't release her into the New Charter's custody,"

"Right,"

"But once she's let go, they can't stop the New Charter from bringing her in for questioning."

My eyes widened. Why hadn't either of us thought of that? "But how are you going to get her? What's to stop her from going into hiding?"

Hunter grinned for the first time in the _longest_ time. "I can send some agents out to ambush her once she's released. Take her in from there and have her transferred to New York for questioning."

"That's pretty brilliant," I agreed. "Do you know when and where she'll be released?"

"I'll have to make a call, but we'll get it all sorted." He said confidently. "This will be over soon."


	14. Chapter 14

**I did not realize it's been over a year since I've updated this. Yikes. So sorry to anyone still reading for having to wait this long. I'm working on the next chapter now. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Morgan." Hunter said again, his tone cajoling and soft-edged to try to bring me to his way of thinking.

Eyes narrowed, I shot a deadly look that silenced him. There was no talking me out of this. "I'll let you know if I need you." I told him stonily, letting myself into the room that held my half-sister.

Iona's murky eyes, so tired yet full of venom, tried their hardest to make me shudder. Had I been a few years younger, a childless, naïve high-schooler, I may have been intimidated. But the amount of hatred I held for her made me hard as ice now.

Her hair was a mess, knotted on top of her head. I knew she'd had her powers reined. I remembered well the feeling of having my powers reined—the powerlessness, the dull ache in my head as my mind tried to connect with the world around me but was unable to. I had been so angry with Hunter then, I thought. Even Sky had been on my side then, but Hunter had wanted to do whatever it took to protect me. It took me longer than I cared to admit to fully get over that feeling of betrayal, to dampen down the bitterness inside me and see the big picture. And then, just weeks after I'd forced myself to let it go, Hunter had betrayed my trust once more by kissing another woman while in Canada.

That was _then_ , I told myself sharply. You have a child with him now, a life with him. None of that matters anymore.

So, for now, I focused my energy on the task at hand. I would drag information out of Iona if it killed me.

I sat down across from her, thinking how ridiculous this scenario seemed. I felt like an FBI interrogator, but with zero knowledge of how to go about the actual interrogation. Should I start calmly? Should I yell? What I _wanted_ to do was pummel her, slam her head into the linoleum floor until her skull cracked and blood seeped out.

I cleared my throat, keeping my fantasy at bay, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked evenly. "What did you have to gain from teaming up with Katrina Byrne?"

Iona grinned, her pale grayish-pink lips cracked and peeling as if she'd been chewing them up with her brittle teeth. I had never met her in person, never really knew what she looked like. I assumed she looked like her mother as she was fair-haired with small eyes and a round face where Ciaran, Killian, and I shared the same coloring and larger, up-tilted hazel eyes. If there were ever a time for me to be grateful I looked like my biological father, it was now. She'd been examining my face since the moment I walked in, drinking in my appearance. I felt a sort of triumph over her; not only did I look like her father, I was the most powerful of all his children. I was the bastard daughter who could take everything she'd ever worked for if I wanted to.

But that still didn't explain her expression now. If what I believed to be the case was, in fact, true, then why did she look like she'd already won?

"I wish I could say it's nice to finally meet you." She said wistfully, her hands folded together on the table top. "I always wanted a sister," she went on. "Felt I got a raw deal in the middle of two brothers… and here you are. A little sister that would have fit in seamlessly with my family." Her smile vanished in an instant, replaced with a hard line. "If you hadn't been born from that whore, perhaps things would have been different. If you had come into this world the right way instead of destroying a family with your first breath, we could have had that close bond."

I tucked my hair behind my ear. "But I didn't," I said. "I'm the product of our father straying from your mother." I hammered the words in, hoping to anger her with each one. I wanted her furious, seething. I wanted her emotions to be raw and white-hot.

"Yes, you are." She agreed.

Uncrossing my arms, I twisted the Claddagh ring on my right ring finger, staring at her as I did so. In the vision I'd had of my future, of seeing Hunter being lost in a ferry accident, I had seen my ring fly off my finger and sink into the water. That had been another added twist in Iona's sick game, and I wanted her to see it now.

She didn't hide her gaze as I worked the ring around and around the base of my finger.

"Did you know, Iona, that I'm the reason Father doesn't love you anymore?"

Her tiny, rodent-like eyes snapped to mine.

"I'm the only child he shared with Maeve. I'm the only child of his that could be worthy of inheriting his legacy." Daringly, I leaned forward and placed my hands on hers that were tightly clenched together. "You may have his name, but I have his eyes, his power." I patted the white, bony hands. "I will never want Amyranth," I murmured. "But that doesn't mean I won't enjoy knowing for the rest of my life that you'll never even get the chance."

Her hands unclenched quickly and grabbed my wrist to slam it down onto the table, pinning me there like an ant under a magnifying glass in the hot sun. With my free hand I smacked hers, hard, watching the blue sparks of my witch fire leap from my fingertips and sizzle against her paper-thin skin.

Hunter's voice was in my head then, having sensed my momentary distress. _I'm okay_ , I sent out to him.

Leaning across the table now, watching as she pitifully cradled her injured hand, I asked again, "Why did you do it?"

Iona attempted to spit at me, but was so dehydrated that it landed on the table top between us.

"You have no power here, Iona." I told her. "So answer my question."

Iona, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, pantomimed zipping her lips, locking them with a key, and tossing it behind her shoulder.

I shoved the table against her roughly as I left, the agonizing feeling of defeat rolling over me.

Hunter grabbed me when I was out, one hand holding me to him by the small of my back and the other wrapped gently around my neck.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking into a sob. "I think I made everything worse."

He kissed me fiercely, holding my face now. "No you didn't, love." He swore, kissing me again. "You did incredibly well."

I nodded, fat tear drops spilling over and down my face. Hunter led me into a quiet hallway free from any nosy New Charter members.

"I just want her to admit it." I sniffled, wiping under my nose with the back of my hand. I laughed in disbelief. "That's what's driving me crazy, and I think she knows it. Just fess up—you've already been caught. Just tell the damn truth."

"And she will," he said confidently. "One way or another, she will admit it."

I gave him a small, watery smile. "Thanks for letting me try at least."

He shook his head, trying not to grin, and kissed me, pressing my back against the wall in the dimly-lit hallway. My hands cupped his face, fingertips lightly tracing his sharp cheekbones, and his hands roamed over my waist, my back, slipping into the back pockets of my skinny jeans and cupping my backside to push my hips against his.

Goddess, I missed this.

"You do an excellent job of distracting me," I whispered against his lips breathlessly.

Hunter smiled, but then his eyes caught sight of my wrist that Iona had grabbed. "That's going to bruise." He said, softly running his thumb over the angry marks.

I nodded. "Probably."

His lips brushed against my temple. "Does it hurt?"

"I've survived worse." I replied coyly. And I had. Much worse. "Can we go home? My parents have Moira until seven, and I'd kind of like to take advantage of that."

"Oh, you would?" he asked, hands on my hips. I bit my lip and nodded.

"Very much." I lifted his left hand off my hip and turned his watch to see the time. "It's one-sixteen now, so by the time we get home and then have to go and get her, we'll have...maybe four hours?"

Hunter nodded. "Sounds about right." He began to steer me out of the hallway and to the elevator just outside of Iona's interrogation room.

As we got in, butterflies flittering around my stomach in anticipation, I made the mistake of looking up before the doors shut.

Iona was staring at me, grinning like a psychopath. My veins were flooded with an icy chill, making me shiver.

Hunter wrapped his arm around my waist. "Cold?"

I nodded as I watched the doors close. On the way down to the ground floor, her smile haunted me. I worried that her face, laughing maniacally, was a sign for something much worse to come.


	15. Chapter 15

I awoke at five-thirty in the morning feeling too hot, my skin sticky and slick with sweat, the hair around my face damp. The summer heat was unrelenting, and our tiny window air conditioner was always turned off during the night; this would have been fine if we had had even a slight breeze last night. I moaned as I stretched, my limbs heavy with sleep. Hunter's arm was draped over me, our bodies pressed together despite the temperature in the room. I managed to slip away and got out of bed as silently as I could. I tiptoed to the bathroom, welcoming the cool tile floor, and splashed cold water on my face from the tap. Outside the bathroom window, I saw dark, _dark_ clouds rolling in—a summer storm. I knew that within the hour we'd be visited by hail and thunder.

I glanced back into the bedroom where Hunter was still sleeping in just his boxers, our bed stripped of everything but a cool cotton sheet; the relatively expensive down comforter and duvet I had sprung for lay in a fluffy pile on the floor. I smiled as I watched him sleep soundly, deeply, his breathing even. Since my meeting with Iona a couple of weeks ago, he had slept through the night and sometimes well into the morning. He could _finally_ relax and take care of himself after stretching himself thin for years. Moira slept through the night, too—an accomplishment I was beyond proud of. I, on the other hand, the perpetual night owl, had become a morning person seemingly overnight. My natural alarm clock got me up and ready for the day at five or six in the morning. I no longer had to drag myself out of bed somewhere between nine and noon. I was now at the point in my life where I felt like the day was wasted if I slept later than eight.

I went back into the bathroom and started the shower, adjusting the heat so it was just slightly above my body temperature. I left the lights off, relying on my mage sight and the soft, gray morning light from the open window. The first crack of thunder sounded as I began to strip out of my clothes; the cotton t-shirt and shorts felt almost muggy, humid, and I tossed them into my hamper and stepped under the tepid water. I let my eyes close and stood directly under the showerhead, my hair flattening against my scalp, shoulders, and back, streams of water trickling down my face. My eyes still shut, I carried on with my shower routine, washing my hair with lavender-mint shampoo and conditioner, scrubbing my body with an abrasive loofa that left my skin feeling slightly tender and raw, but blissfully clean.

Dreams about Iona and Katrina had slipped into my mind over the past few weeks. They were dark, uncomfortable, and always left me feeling on edge. I'd had another last night, but when I had awoken from it several hours ago, the weight of Hunter's arm around me and the feel of his lean, hard, muscular body pressed against my back lulled me happily back to sleep. I was not going to tell Hunter that my dreams were becoming more and more frequent—I couldn't bear to take away the only peace of mind he's had in years. I had made notes of them, though, in my Book of Shadows. I tried to capture every detail of them; I wanted to forget nothing. I had thought about scrying, but every time I glanced at a candle's flame I would feel a sense of dread and blow it out. Moira was already fascinated by fire at seven months old, her large golden-green eyes catching the light as I worked. I tried to keep her away from it, and I knew that it was irrational, I did. But one less thing for me to worry about was necessary.

I felt Hunter's presence a moment before the glass shower door slid open. As he closed it, I felt his lips brush against my shoulder. A shudder rolled through me as his hands held my waist, and I pushed back against him, tilting my head to the side to let him graze the reddened skin. His hands roamed over me, and I let out a soft moan, unable to help myself. I turned around, standing on tiptoe to join our mouths in a heated kiss. I pressed myself back against the cold tile wall of the shower for balance as his touch both unnerved and excited me to my very core. It wasn't until after I had seen Iona that Hunter and I started having sex again. The times that we came close to it, there was always a reason to back off. He was tired or stressed, I was overwhelmed with my ever-changing body as Moira grew inside of me. Then, in the months after her birth, it seemed like a hassle to try to connect on that level. We had been acting like total strangers; _roommates_ at best. I had been living in a constant fear, my anxiety emanating from every pore, and Hunter had picked up on it. There were times when I had woken up, and he was on the opposite side of the bed, a good foot or so parting us.

Somehow, after my encounter-slash-interrogation, I had felt so… _alive_. Awake. I could smile and laugh again, a humongous weight off of my chest. My desires had come back with a fury, and Hunter and I hadn't made it two feet inside the house before we were taking off each other's clothes and making love on the living room floor. Now my skin was feverish again, the hairs standing on end, my legs shaking with anticipation before we joined our bodies under the running water. Our combined breathing was ragged, moans breathy and wanton, neither of us caring that our windows were open and we had neighbors. All that mattered in the moment was the universe that existed between only us.

* * *

We watched the storm from the covered patio, sitting on the cool concrete. Hunter held Moira, whose eyes lit up as lightning streaked across the violet sky. Dagda let himself peer just slightly out from under the covering, batting his paw at the fat rain drops that were coming down in sheets. I grinned at Hunter, blushing slightly from our shower encounter, and leaned over to kiss Moira's temple. She had one pudgy hand in her mouth, her gaze fixed on the scene before us. We had had other storms this summer, but each time thunder struck, the sound hurt her ears and she'd cry, completely inconsolable until the storm passed and we were left with only a light sprinkling of rain. This morning, she was mesmerized, not even concerned with the booming sounds and the icy ricochets of hail as they now pelted the ground.

This time, too, Hunter was holding her close.

I had known from the second she was born that they had a special connection, a bond that I would never have. It didn't matter that I had carried her and given birth to her; Hunter was her favorite person in the world. As deliriously happy as it made me, I still felt sad as I watched them interact. I still wished sometimes that I could have grown up with Ciaran. In my mind, I knew that was crazy; I knew I couldn't have changed him. But he was my father—he was half of who I was. I loved my parents, was so grateful that I had them, but those feelings never completely took away the pain of losing my biological ties.

"How about Beltane?"

My eyes snapped to his as it took me a moment to register that he had spoken. "What?"

He shifted Moira on his knee. "For our handfasting. We do have good memories of Beltane, after all." He smirked at me, raising a blonde eyebrow mischievously.

I was stunned. Beyond stunned. The last time we had talked about our engagement was after we'd moved into this house last year—and we had agreed to put in on hold indefinitely. "You still want to get married?" I asked cautiously.

"Of course." He said without missing a beat. His eyes looked worried then, seeing my confused expression. "Unless you don't—"

"No!" I said in a rush. "No, of course I do!" I bit my lip to keep calm, to keep myself from smiling or crying. I cleared my throat. "I just thought we weren't thinking about it anymore."

Hunter nodded after a moment. "This year has been…" he sighed. "With the exception of Moira, this has been one of the worst years of my life."

I nodded sadly. This was saying a lot—he had lost his younger brother and his mother, so I knew he wouldn't say that if it weren't true.

"I think part of me resented you, Morgan."

A strike of lightning caught my eye, and I was glad for the excuse to look away from Hunter. I wasn't sure if I could handle the direction he was taking this conversation; I knew whatever he had to say was going to be as alarming as it was honest.

"I hate that I even think that, but…" he bit his lip, the hand holding Moira tightening slightly. "I want you to explore your full potential—that's all I've ever wanted for you. I was jealous when the Byrne's sought you out; I feel childish saying this, but I felt like they were taking you away from me. From our plans. I was going to work in New York while you were finishing up school."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "A-are you serious?"

He looked ashamed as he nodded. "I was angry that you decided so quickly to move to Ireland without even talking to me, and I took it out on you by staying in London. I avoided a lot of your calls, purposely didn't come to see you until your birthday. I was wrong to do that, and I will gladly spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

I shook my head. "I had a feeling." I murmured. "And you're right—I made a huge decision without giving you any consideration. I don't want you to be sorry, Hunter. I don't want you to make anything up to me." I ran a hand along Dagda's back as he started to go back inside, feeling him purr as I stroked him. "I'm always going to feel like I messed things up between us—I can't help it. I will always feel guilty about it."

"As will I." he replied, reaching out his free hand to tuck my hair back behind my ear. He held me cheek in his hand, and I leaned into it. "I know that I love you more than I can stand sometimes,"

"I can be quite insufferable," I agreed, and he chuckled softly.

"The point I was trying to make," he added pointedly. "Is that we deserve another chance. We're adults now. We can make this work without any interference now."

I nodded after a moment, watching as the storm lightened up, moving northwest of us. The air was damp, and I could feel the coolness of the rain leech away. I was dreading the sun—today would be unbearable if it came out from behind the clouds.

"So Beltane?"

"Beltane." I agreed.

Hunter was alerted to the front door before I was, his grin fading instantly, and I followed his eye line just in time to hear the knocking. We looked at each other, trying to sense who it was. I knew the vibrations, and I wanted to vomit then.

Colm Byrne.


End file.
